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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040989">home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuu_chan/pseuds/shuu_chan'>shuu_chan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Kings Rising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:28:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuu_chan/pseuds/shuu_chan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen and Laurent are away from each other and miss each other terribly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Damen sighed as he signalled to end another inconclusive meeting. He had hoped the darkening sky and the increasingly weary councillors, not to mention his own presence, would finally embarrass the disputing lords into some kind of settlement, if not reconciliation. Unfortunately, they proved to be as stubborn as they were obtuse. He sighed again, as he watched Ariatas and Bourbeau completely ignore each other, as each shuffled out of the room. Even their respective parties refused to acknowledge each other’s existence. His hope of wrapping up this matter swiftly was running out, and each antagonistic look exchanged between the two lords just extinguished it further. With an effort, he pulled away from the papers in front of him, detailing each lord’s misdeed towards the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a long day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For five excruciating hours, he had to listen to both the lords’ list of grievances against his neighbour. Before the unification, they would have enemies across a contentious stretch of land, perched between two enemy nations. Frequent outbreaks of small fights or raids would have been common, part of daily life at the border. Their holdings were not the impeccable forts of the border lords, trained in fighting and defending, rather farmlands and small smatterings of towns, where traders and artisans thrived. Their skirmishes were petty and personal, often over livestock and trade and other neighbourly disputes. The land they held was valuable, its significance increased by its sudden proximity to the royal capital. It was land that he and Laurent meant to cultivate, it had the business and bustle necessary for the kings’ stronghold in Marlas. It had all the rudimentary beginnings of a powerful cultural and commercial centre for the new empire, needing only royal patronage. The royal household had been in the process of buying over this land, governed by minor nobility, when two lords from the opposite sides of the border discovered, to their astonishment, a sizable piece of uncultivated land, barely a speck on the maps, that, at least on paper, they both owned. From then on, the dispute, eagerly attended by both parties, had snowballed into something unmanageable. They had been advised, then chided, and finally, cajoled by advisors and officials, until Damen decided to settle matters himself. It was not going well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The former border between Vere and Akielos looked very different now, as did the ancient fort of Marlas. He and Laurent held the centre, and ruled it unambiguously; there was no more need of concentrating military forces and assets in this region. And by now, four years into the unification, he and Laurent were well-versed in the art of extracting some sort of peace out of tense and antagonistic relations. But now, weeks into Ariatas and Bourbeau’s dispute, he was finding it hard to see anything salvageable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dark had settled as Damen stepped out of the meeting room. Nikandros stepped after him. Looking at his old friend, he realized that he seemed just as weary as he was. They exchanged a look and Nikandros patted him sympathetically on the shoulder as they walked towards the main wing of the palace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the risk of offending you, Exalted,” Nikandros started slowly, smiling as he dangled the unfinished sentence in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damen stopped, shot him a knowing, level look but didn’t interrupt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps we should wait for His Majesty?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean I should spend my precious hours on other things than those fools and what-- I should let Laurent handle it?” he asked pointedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s more suited for this particular brand of intimidation tactics. Better experienced too, if I venture to guess,” Nikandros said, the hint of laughter finally colouring his respectful tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Ariatas and Bourbeau, in their petty and provincial stubbornness, seemed immune to any kind of tactics, he thought. He narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t laughing in there, Nikandros.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nikandros finally let out a laugh, “They will come around, I promise you,” then bowed, wishing him goodnight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before leaving he said, with knowing affection, “We all miss him, Damen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damen accepted this simple admission and tucked it into his heart, putting it alongside other precious, random facts about Laurent-- sweet, enigmatic Laurent, who was elusive and hesitant, and self-assured, who was adored by his household and advisors and his subjects-- and who was, right now, miles away from him. He regretted letting Laurent go to Acquitart alone, to deal with trade routes on the Vere-Vask border. What was supposed to be a few weeks of bargaining had lengthened into two months, and then four, of border upkeep deep into the Vaskian mountainside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he was as acutely missed-- that Laurent also felt his absence. Even before Laurent's ascension, when they both had to stabilize their respective countries and end dissent in their courts, four months would have been too much, too long to be apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had anticipated his own longing for him. After all, this was the first time, since the very initial days of separation, that they were apart. He had not known to fully expect the sort of emptiness he would leave behind in the royal palace - the absence of a loved ruler, of the familiarity of the bright, golden head, the void of his existence in the huge and complicated machinery of a royal palace, and the undeniable fact that Laurent, sharp and capable and lovely, was at the heart and centre of it, alongside him-- it filled his heart to see it now: their life at Marlas, their home, that they had built up together, salvaging love and fairness from the ugly tangle of violence and deceptions that had marred their countries and themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damen walked on for a while, mind wandering, as he saw the palace around him readying for nighttime and for dinner, as swiftly and efficiently as it did anything else. Seeing that nothing required the King’s urgent attention, he took a detour in the royal gardens. They were an echo of the royal gardens in Ishtima, made especially for the two kings. Here, he had solitude. Here, Laurent's absence seemed more pronounced, a constant wound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More than a hundred days, he thought. No wonder that the longing was now a constant dull ache that kept him company, night and day, sleeping or awake. It had been unsettling in the first few days apart, to wake and not find Laurent in his arms. Recently, as the fact of Laurent's absence prolonged, his awareness of it lingered in his body even as he slept. Since the first few lonely weeks, he had turned his mind to matters of ruling and politics. Most of his spare time was spent in the training halls, sparring with his men, or in his study and meeting rooms as he and his council detailed over the neverending paperwork of ruling two kingdoms. Two months in, he realized that even throwing himself into the endless business of statecraft couldn’t lessen his longing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mood from before lingered as he traversed the gardens, now transformed into a sharper, more urgent kind of longing. Sometimes, as now, the duties of kingship seemed a burden to him. He could feel the irrational urge work through him, to raze whatever distance was between him and Laurent, kingship and convoluted statecraft be damned. If he felt Laurent’s absence in the council meetings, on the throne, in the daily drudge of statecraft, it was nothing to the void he felt in private. In private, where Laurent was the sweetest, the most honest and lovely; where they shared knowing, tender looks, with blue eyes bright with mischief and affection; where soft touches were exchanged, followed with warm kisses and embraces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still remembered the last night before Laurent's departure, their farewell: limbs tangling, bodies joined and Laurent's sweet, soft lips. And then the more public farewell that came later, their hands clasped and a chaste kiss to his lips. He missed Laurent’s jibes and his teasing. He thought of Laurent's smile, soft and genuine, and was surprised he had gone so long without it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hundred days, he thought. It was unbearable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On sudden impulse, he made his way to the royal chambers. There, taking hold of parchment and paper, he sat on his desk. He had written many such notes to Laurent. They ranged from brief missives to strings of paper filled with the usual business of the state. There were also letters of a more personal sort, although he feared that after months of being apart they were getting a bit repetitive. It's not like he was especially skilled at the convoluted lovemaking that was typical of Veretian love letters. That didn't stop him, however, from taking down his longing for Laurent, in simple, honest words. It was almost unbearably intimate to write them down and enclose them, hoping that the depth of his feeling could be conveyed - and wishing to see the effect his words produced on Laurent, who still responded to intimacy with unexpected shyness. </span>
</p>
<p>When he was done, Damen put the letter on his desk, enveloped and signed, and joined his court for dinner and entertainments. Tomorrow, his letter would travel away from Marlas, deep into the mountains, where it was eagerly awaited by his husband.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a re-writing of my old unfinished fic "A Home". There is not much plot here, but I kept coming back to this fic. This was originally supposed to be a very straightforward fic - a chapter each from Damen and Laurent's POV and then the final chapter where they are reunited. Somehow, it turned into a reflection of Damen and Laurent's lives post-canon, politically and relationship-wise.  <br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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